Story 2

by elizacamille

a story

Chapter 1

JON

Jon braced himself on the wall that overlooked the now full grounds outside of Winterfell. Snow fell on the newly erected tents and fires could be seen along the pathways. The Dothraki and Unsullied had settled in, and as far as he could tell, only Rhaegal was flying overhead. Since the loss of his brother, Viserion, even Daenerys had a difficult time bringing him to rest.

But even as they seemed to finally be on a proper footing, his brother had all but yanked the stone from beneath his feet. Not his brother. Cousin. He hadn't seen the queen since she'd heard the confession and, to be truthful, he didn't know what he would say to her when they saw one another.

Bran's delivery of the news couldn't have been more shocking, the flat affect of his voice as he told them, with, of all people, Samwell Tarly to back up the news. Bran had changed, no longer the little boy who wanted their father's praise, but now an all-seeing being able to tell even the most private of moments between people. He knew of his time with Ygritte and even his conversation with Stannis to make him a full-fledged Stark but also informed Dany that he witnessed her putting her husband out of his misery with a pillow. The queen had been taken aback by this declaration, as had Jon. He had known she'd lost a husband, he hadn't known of the circumstance.

He didn't know what she would do now that she had heard that he, the bastard of Winterfell, was actually the trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. His hands actually shook when he considered it. As he pieced in moments from his past, questions he had asked his father, or even Ser Rodrik, no one ever gave him a satisfactory answer. In fact, his father always avoided the discussion. He had always assumed it was to not upset Catelyn, now he knew that it was because of a promise to his dying sister, and to protect he himself. He hung his head and stared at the snow, actually wishing for the times when he believed that he hadn't been wanted because he was a bastard. It was easier to be a Snow. It was easier to believe that you were unwanted.

Bran had destroyed all such illusions.

Daenerys was technically his aunt, which was its own set of problems. The truth was, cousins often married and even the Starks had an avuncular marriage in the not so distant past. The Targaryens were notorious for marrying siblings in order to keep the lines pure. That's where the madness had come from, he thought, but now, faced with all he knew, he felt dizzy and even more out of place than usual.

"Your home is beautiful." The sound of her voice actually soothed him a bit. He glanced to his right and could see her, wrapped in the black fur cloak that Sansa had made for her. There were small traces of red that lay within the fur, and he had to hand it to his sister...cousin: she did fine work.

"Thank you," he said as he watched Rhaegal finally settle near a sleeping Drogon. "He's lost without his brother."

She nodded. "I felt that way for a bit after Viserys sold me to the Khal. I felt like he had betrayed me, simply for his own ambition."

"Hadn't he?"

She looked over at him, her violet eyes staring into his grey ones. "Yes. I suppose he had. Had he not, however, I don't think I would be standing here, today." He frowned and looked back out at the two dragons. "Where would you be, Jon, had your father told you all that you learned today? Would you even be alive? Had Robert Baratheon received the smallest hint that you weren't who Ned Stark said you were...would you have lived?"

"No," he answered. "Father always said that it was Robert's mission to rid the world of Targaryens."

She smiled a bit at him. "I'm very glad he failed. On both of our accounts."

He straightened and then faced her fully. "This makes you my aunt," he declared.

She shrugged a shoulder. "Obviously that bothers you."

He was still unsure how he felt about it. He certainly didn't feel like she was any relation to him. It did nothing to diminish the longing he felt for her. The love that had been blossoming between them since their time on the ship. If he was honest, it was before that. The cave, maybe? "It doesn't you?" He needed to know how she felt. He needed to know if he was alone in his feelings, and if all of this was some sick plot by the Gods to dangle something so sweet in front of him only to rip it away.

She shook her head. "I know you as Jon Snow, King of the North, and defier of my will," she responded. "The fact that you are now a long-lost nephew has little weight with me." He sighed and looked to the ground. "You feel differently? Do you want me less?"

His head shot up and looked at her, his eyes fixated to hers. "No."

She stepped forward and pressed her hand over his heart. "I know you, Jon. Whether your name is Jon Snow or Aegon Targaryen, it changes nothing in how I feel for you. The man in front of me leads his people with a single-minded determination that I adore. A name change does not change that for me."

His hands captured her elbows and he leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "Leave you to be the one to make all of this seem less immediate."

She burrowed her face into his neck and her arms moved to his back beneath his cloak. "Maybe what you should be considering is how you and I were on opposite sides of the world, separated by politics, marriages, vows, and a great sea. Yet, here we stand on the walls of Winterfell staring out at the army to take on the coming night. Of all the people that you could have sent to me in your place," she paused, "a raven, a messenger, something in place of you; you rowed to my shores and openly defied me in my own throne room," she said before she pulled her head away and looked up at him. "You even used family history against me. We were meant to find one another. We were meant to unite against whatever is coming for us. We were meant to do it together," she whispered.

He leaned down and captured her lips with his, pulling her to him tighter. She whimpered when he released her. "You're right," he answered.

"I do like it when you agree with me," she said before she leaned up and kissed him briefly. "I think I like it better, though, when we argue." He rubbed his nose against hers and then pulled away from her as Rhaegal let out a screech. Dany turned to the wall and watched him thrash on the ground, and then go still again. "Come with me to settle him?" she questioned.

"Should I bring guards?"

She shook her head. "Why do I need them when I have you?"

He escorted her down the stairs and out of the doors of the keep, nodding to soldiers as they passed. As they made their way over to the dragons, Rhaegal crawled on his belly closer to them, Drogon only lifting his head at their approach and then settling down once more. She moved her fingers over the scales of his snout and over his brow, Rhaegal preening under her caress. "There now," she whispered. "I'm here." She took a seat on the snow, and the large dragon dropped his head beside her, allowing her to coax him to sleep with her voice and soft caress. Jon continued to look around, his eyes sharp for anyone who would harm her, but he felt she was probably safer here than anywhere else. The dragons would die before they allowed anything to happen to her. Rhaegal nudged him with his tail and huffed out smoke at the ground beside Dany. "I believe he's insisting that you sit."

"It's safer if I stand."

The dragon snarled and Dany looked up at him, a smile playing at her lips. "You don't tell a dragon 'no'."

He noticed that Rhaegal was staring directly at him, and until he relented, he didn't lower his head back to Dany. He felt something behind him and turned to see that it was Rhaegal's tail as the large dragon seemed to be curling around them. "He mourns," Jon said softly, feeling Dany move closer to him.

"He lost his brother," she whispered. "I think both of us can understand the pain that comes with that."

He cautiously moved his hand to Rhaegal's snout and the dragon allowed him to pet him too, though it was short. "Drogon doesn't seem..."

"Drogon wasn't locked away with them. He's...smart. Smarter than some people. He knew I was going to imprison them, and he left. Rhaegal and Viserion were locked away together for a long time. They were as close as any two brothers."

"And you're their mother."

"Mother of Dragons," she said as she looked over at him. "Never of man."

He frowned. "I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "I have the three most powerful sons in all of history. Don't pity me." The words were without malice but instead were wistful. He could tell when Rhaegal was finally asleep as the dragon seemed to almost roll onto his side and Dany smiled over at Jon who returned it.

"I'm not trying to be insulting, but they remind me of wolves."

She stood and brushed the snow from her backside and then offered a hand out to Jon. "I take no insult to that, knowing how much you love wolves." Her breath mingled with his and he was struck once more by her beauty. The sun had set and left out in the darkness, the moonlight shining on her skin, she looked ethereally beautiful, something not of this world, or too good for it.

"Let's get inside where it's warm."

She nodded and looped her arm through his. "I think I'd like to have a bath," she declared as she glanced at Jon.

"I'll make sure you have warm water," he responded as they walked back through the gates which were closed behind them.

"Is that all?"

Jon looked up at the castle, trying to control what appeared to be uncontrollable. His lust for her was something that seemed to rage like one of Drogon's fires, but they were in Winterfell, and he knew from experience that voices sometimes carried over the thick stone. "What else would you like, your grace?"

She stopped outside the door to the tower and chewed on her bottom lip. "I'd like to negotiate the terms of your surrender."

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "My surrender?"

"Yes. It seems only fitting that you surrender to me."

"Fitting how?" he questioned, aghast at the suggestion.

She smiled but said nothing. The comment hung heavily between them and his brow was now furrowed as he stared at her. Suddenly, realization struck him and he felt his face flush. "Oh."

"Indeed."

He sighed. "You'll still need hot water to be drawn," he answered. "For my surrender."

"I'll leave that to your capable hands," she said as she turned and entered the tower. He found a servant and requested for water to be taken to the queen's chamber, and waited until the last bit had been taken into her room before he raced up the stairs.

Chapter 2

JAIME

The snow continued to fall, making the road harder and harder to navigate. The swirl of it around him gave him pause. He stopped for a moment, trying to get a better view of the road ahead of him, he stopped at seeing what looked to be Lannister forces standing along the road. A panic filled him as he wondered if Cersei really would have him killed. She had every opportunity when he was in front her. All it would have taken was one word from her and the Mountain would have struck him down. Maybe she couldn't see him killed in front of her, despite her anger and feelings of betrayal. He was the one who should feel betrayed.

He stopped as a figure in dark gray suddenly moved onto the path and he was actually terrified for a moment that she had sent Bronn to kill him.

"Right fucking mess you've got yourself in," Bronn said to him, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

Jaime nodded. "Seems to be the pattern."

"I was sent to kill you. Promised a castle, again. No high-born beauty this time."

Jaime frowned as he looked at his one-time partner in battle. "So, am I actually allowed to get off my horse to fight for my life or are you not even going to give me the chance?"

"We both know I can take you on or off a horse." He looked back at the men standing behind him and frowned. "But I'm not actually going to kill you. See, these lads were in the dragon pit and saw whatever that thing was. They're insistent that those things never make it south to King's Landing and their families. They're here to fight alongside you."

Jaime furrowed his brow, amazed at the cutthroat in front of him. "And you?"

"I told you. No one gets to kill you but me, so I figure I should go with you on this stupid fucking mission you've assigned to yourself. You promised me a woman."

"I don't know that I'll be able to keep that promise," he answered honestly, wondering if that would cause Bronn to change his mind about sparing his life.

"No, but your brother would," he said with a slight smile. "I think I'll take my chances with the two Lannisters who don't already see me as a traitor." Bronn moved over to his horse and climbed on. "Long way to Winterfell. That's the direction the Dothraki were heading from Dragonstone, at least."

"That's where we need to go. We'll need to inform them that Cersei isn't keeping her word."

"Don't know that any of them will be surprised by that information," Bronn said, reminding Jaime once more that everyone else saw his sister for exactly who she was. Jaime was the only one who had functioned under the illusion that there might be some part of Cersei that could see reason. Unfortunately, Jaime had learned that lesson the hard way. Bronn followed alongside him as the rest of the men circled around behind them. "What are the chances we actually make it out of this alive?"

"Not good," Jaime remembered all too clearly the monster that had come screaming out of that box towards Cersei. It was one of the most terrifying things he'd ever seen in his life. The dead were walking and their sole purpose was killing the living. Why couldn't Cersei see that nothing mattered but this war? If they lost here, there would be nothing to protect her, not even the Mountain. Their child would never be born, their legacy truly dead. It seemed such a waste to simply take the Golden Company and use them to reclaim lands. Land didn't matter. Houses and loyalty didn't matter. In some ways, though he thought it was the most ridiculous thing he could do, he respected Jon Snow for being a man of his word, even though everything hung on him telling a simple lie. No one had ever questioned Jon Snow's honor. He envied him for that. The irony of envying a bastard was not lost on him.

Bronn sighed and leaned back on his saddle. "Wonderful. There's a nice brothel in Wintertown. There's that, at least."

Jaime smiled and then felt it leave his face. He'd just left behind the woman he loved and their unborn child to fight for a war she didn't believe in. "How far ahead of us are the Dothraki?"

"A day and a half," Bronn answered.

Jaime nodded, wondering how long Bronn had been waiting for him and if Cersei had known the entire time that he would leave her. He didn't know her anymore, that was for sure. He hadn't always been a man of his word, but something had changed over the last few years. Something in him wanted to be a man of his word, a man of honor. A man like Ser Arthur Dayne, who had knighted him and who he had looked up to more than anyone before Aerys and life jaded him. He'd always been that way with his family, but too many people saw him as the Kingslayer and nothing else. He hoped, if nothing else, that he could make others see that there was one Lannister who kept his word, despite the danger he was now faced with. "Let's keep it that way."

Bronn nodded. "I agree."

Chapter 3

SANSA

Since Bran had informed all of them about Jon's true parentage, it was the one thought which had consumed Sansa's mind. Though it was earth-shattering news, especially to Jon who had left the room quickly, and even to Daenerys Targaryen who appeared to be in a state of shock, Sansa thought that much of it made sense. She'd been replaying scenes over from her childhood, how they would ask about their Aunt Lyanna and their father would get a strange look in his eye and avoid the conversation. They had always assumed that the loss was something that he wasn't able to reconcile in his mind, everything that had happened, the war, all of it, had been started with his sister being taken.

But now, knowing what they knew, Sansa realized that her father had taken the secret of Jon with him to his grave. She felt for her brother. And she did still think of him that way. He rode south to Winterfell to help take back their home. He'd nearly lost in the effort, had it not been for the Knights of the Vale, but he had ridden south, taken up arms against Ramsey, and ultimately allowed her to kill him. It always brought a sense of peace to Sansa to remember how Ramsey had screamed when his dogs had finally bitten into him. When she would have memories of the torture she suffered at his hands, she would take a breath and remember the fear on his face as that great hound stood in front of him. It was the first time she had ever seen him so unsettled.

As she sat in the family solar, she was confronted with the fact that Jon was named King of the North because he was a Stark. She supposed that he still was a Stark. But he was also a Targaryen. She wondered if the Northern Lords would still hold him as their King. She knew that it was pointless to even wonder. Jon had bent the knee to Daenerys. He was loyal to her, obviously. She'd only seen them together for a few moments, but even she could see that there was nothing innocent in how they looked at one another. If Jon was trying to hide how he felt, he was doing a lousy job at it. The same could be said for the Queen.

Sansa looked at the stack of scrolls in front of her and pondered the implications that Jon was the son of Rhaegar and Lyanna. He was the true heir to the Iron Throne, though Jon lacked any sort of ambition to rule the Seven Kingdoms. Anyone, at this point, was better than Cersei. Tyrion had informed her that Cersei had planned to march her armies north to help with the fight. She'd never known her former husband to believe in his sister, she didn't know why he did now. She thought of it as if she were Cersei. There was no reason to help them. She fully expected it all to be a lie. It would be just like her to tell everyone to expect help only to send her forces to kill them in the dark. The Lannisters send their regards.

She felt the tears build at hearing Bran speak those words. When he had explained the purpose of them, when Roose Bolton had killed her brother, Robb, she felt a chill move down her spine. Lannisters had caused so much death and destruction in this world, and the worst one was currently calling herself Queen.

"You're crying," Arya said as she moved into the room with her sister and sat beside her. Sansa took a shaky breath and tried to control her emotions, especially in front of someone like her sister who could so easily read her.

"Thinking about Robb and Mother."

Arya frowned and sat across the table from Sansa. Her sister was unreadable and she kept herself so closed off from everyone. The first real smile she'd seen from the girl had been when Jon had arrived. She had been right, Jon was thrilled to see her. Hugged her, swung her around, his normally stoic countenance replaced by a wide smile she didn't know he was capable of. She ached a bit, knowing that she would never have that sort of relationship with any of her siblings.

Her eyes met the gray of her sister's and Arya looked at her hands. "I was there," she whispered. "The Hound was taking me to the Twins to sell me to Robb. I escaped from him and watched as the Freys came out and began butchering Robb's men. Greywind." She shook her head and it was sorrow she heard in her sister's voice. "I was going to run in, but the Hound stopped me, took me away." Her voice shook as she said the next part. "What they did to his body...I killed them. The ones that hurt our family. All the Freys," she told Sansa. Though she knew she should be appalled that her sister admitted to the mass murder that took place at the Twins, she was relieved. Someone had taken revenge against them for their betrayal.

"Did they suffer?" Sansa asked, her voice low.

"All of them," she responded. It was one of the few times she hadn't been afraid of Arya.

Sansa leaned back in her chair and gave a simple nod. "Good."

Arya looked at the dark window and heaved a sigh. "About what Bran told us. About Jon. How do you feel about that?"

Sansa took a deep breath and shifted in her seat, "Are we playing the game of faces or are you asking me as my sister?"

"I hardly feel like there's a difference anymore. But fine, I'm asking as your sister."

"Jon's the true heir to the Iron Throne," she said after a moment of silence. "The Seven Kingdoms are his to claim, not Daenerys Targaryen. His. He could be the ruler that this world needs."

"Do you think Daenerys would allow him to claim it?"

At that, she wasn't sure. She knew there was something between him and the Dragon Queen, but she didn't know how deep it ran. Sansa stood, walked to the window and looked out at the dark sky, snow falling to the ground below. "She certainly has the army to oppose him if she so desired."

"I think she desires Jon. That changes things," Arya answered.

Sansa turned to Arya, a smirk on her face. "You caught that, too?"

Arya chuckled. "They were eye fucking each other in front of everyone. Yes, I caught it."

She shook her head at Arya's statement. "Do you have to say things like that?"

She nodded. "Yes. It irritates you when I don't act or speak like a lady."

"And you must irritate your sister?"

"One of the few joys I still get out of life," Arya answered with a smile. But the conversation died away and Sansa watched as Arya stared into the fire. Her sister's expression was of one deep in thought. She still didn't know the girl in front of her. She wasn't a girl any longer, Sansa chided herself. She was a woman grown and an accomplished killer. To think, weeks ago she even contemplated that Arya wanted anything to do with being the Lady of Winterfell. All she really wanted was to fight.

"They're lucky," Sansa said finally, referring to Jon and Daenerys. "As you said, women so rarely get to choose what we do in life. I feel like Daenerys can do whatever she pleases."

"And that seems to be Jon," she said with a smirk. "He's still our brother," Arya said calmly, but Sansa knew she was telling her how she should feel about Bran's revelation. "His name doesn't change who he is to us."

"No, it doesn't. He's still Jon, still our brother. Could you imagine calling him Aegon?" Sansa said with a roll of her eyes and moved back to her chair. "I think he'd rather eat his boots."

Arya chuckled at that. "Probably. I know why Father did what he did." Arya looked up at Sansa and she was startled by Arya's declaration. "Imagine finding out that the entire war that you fought in, the war that caused you to lose your brother and your father, was built on a lie. Lyanna left with Rhaegar. She loved him. She couldn't have told anyone about it. They would never have allowed her to leave."

"She was reckless," Sansa answered.

"Love makes people reckless," Arya answered and heaved a sigh. "Love makes people do and say stupid things because it clouds your mind."

Sansa eyed Arya as she stared into the fire. "Had much experience with love?"

Arya looked at her from the corner of her eye. "Not since I was a girl." She shook her head. "I hardly remember what that time was like. Constantly on the run, not knowing who I was going to be or who was going to try to sell me back to my family first. Would I even make it to them?"

"Who was he?" Sansa asked, curious about this person that her normally wary sister loved.

Arya turned back to the fire. "A stupid bull," she shook her head. "I wanted him to come with me to Robb. I wanted him to be my family," she said sadly. "He turned me down, chose to stay with the Brotherhood, and then they sold him to a red witch." Sansa was surprised by the shift in Arya's tone from wistful to cold in the span of a single word. "Anyway, he's probably dead now."

"What was his name?"

Arya glanced at her sister and sighed. "It doesn't matter."

"It does to you," Sansa said softly. A part of her was so thankful to have this glimpse into Arya. She kept herself so closed off, so remote to everyone around her. To learn that Arya had loved someone gave her a bit of hope. She had been convinced that Arya felt next to nothing anymore. But now she could see that her sister still held onto the memory of and love for a boy that she believed to be dead.

The brown haired girl pulled her knees to her chest as she stared at the fire. "You're right. It does to me. I thought I was beyond that."

"You still feel things, Arya. That's not bad."

"It is if you're a killer," she said as she looked at Sansa and she nearly shivered. "Feelings are a weakness." Sansa nodded and stared into the flames herself, realizing that she was right. Feelings, emotions could all be used against you. If Lord Baelish had taught her anything that was it. Arya stood then and gripped her shoulder as she passed. "Good night, Sansa."

"Good night, Arya."

Chapter 4

DAENERYS

Her attendant's left her after the ornate braids had been undone and she was left with nothing but her robe. The bath had been filled and the steam from the hot water rose into the air. She ran her fingers through her hair once, waiting for Jon to arrive. She smiled to herself as she thought of him, amazed at how earnest he was in almost everything he did. Her heart fluttered a bit as she thought of the way his hands felt on her skin, causing her to shiver even as she stood in front of the vanity.

The door behind her opened and she turned to see that it was Jon. He latched the door behind him as she stood and made her way to him. Her hands grasped the belt at his hips and brought his body to hers. He leaned down and kissed her, his hands cupping her face, the leather of his gloves a stark contrast to the softness of his lips. His clothes still held the chill of the winter outside, and she longed to warm him. She broke the kiss and helped him undo the sword belt at his waist and leaned it against the wall. She pulled his gloves from each hand and then helped with the straps of his heavy cloak. She could feel his eyes scanning her face as she concentrated on the important task of removing his clothes. He tried to capture her in a kiss once more, but she avoided him.

This was what she loved. The intimacy of them and their connection. His doublet soon joined his cloak in the growing pile by the door. His tunic was next, leaving his chest bare to her gaze. As always, her eyes went to the angry red marks on his skin. How someone could do such a thing to this man made her angry. His sole drive in this world was to protect people, and they had killed him for it. He deserved better. She placed a kiss above the angry red mark over his heart and he heaved a heavy sigh. She wished she could kiss it away, to make the pain less for him. She was powerless to keep the memory from hurting, but she would always try.

This time when he attempted to kiss her, she let him, feeling the insistent heat of his tongue against hers. His hands slid over her waist, her hips and began sliding up to her breasts. She broke away from him though, moving her lips over his shoulder and moved behind him. The muscles in his back moved with every breath and she was stirred by him. She moved her hands over his sides down to his hips. She trailed her lips over his skin while her hands slid over the front of his leathers and smiled. The growl she received from him let her know that he was very close to pressing her to the door. However, she stayed behind him and untied his breeches then slipped her hand inside. He leaned his head back and hissed as she stroked over the hard length of him. "Daenerys," he groaned as she pressed completely against him. She released him and moved her hands to the V of his abdomen, trailing her fingers through the crease. She smiled again as she felt him shiver beneath her hands and lips.

Daenerys moved to stand in front of him once more and he was unleashed, pulling her against him roughly. His kiss scorched as it moved down her throat and his hands undid the tie of her robe. He fumbled to rid himself of his boots and she giggled as he seemed torn between holding her against him or removing them. He grunted as she took several steps back from him and crooked her finger at him before removing her robe completely and stepping into the steaming water. The needy look in his eyes and the frantic motion of him removing the rest of his clothes had her aching for him. He stepped into the water, unaffected by the heat. She wondered if he even noticed. Seems he's more of a dragon than he believed.

The thought quickly left her as he pulled her into his lap and sheathed himself inside her. She gasped, gripping his shoulders as he guided her movements over him. She reached behind him and removed the tie holding his hair. She took handfuls of it, holding him against her as he captured her breast in his mouth, his eyes finding hers while his teeth nipped at the stiff peak. She shivered in his arms, rolling her hips against his. This was something she would never give up, never stop fighting to have. He was worth it. When his calloused thumb grazed over her clit, she was undone, throwing her head back. His name echoed off the walls, unable to control the sound. Her body clenched around him and he nearly growled her name against her breast as she milked him of his release.

The steam from the bath caused the black curls to look even wilder, helped by her hands raking through them. She loved when he lost control of himself. She loved that she could make him lose that control. He continued to pant against her skin as her hands moved over his neck and shoulders down his back. Jon was strong beneath her and the feel of him gave her a peace she didn't know she was missing. His hands cupped her face and she opened her eyes to find him staring at her, a languid smile on his face. She couldn't help but kiss him at that point and he nibbled along her bottom lip and then her jaw.

She glanced at the floor and realized that much of the water in the tub had sloshed out and his eyes followed hers, a smile on his face. "Best bath I've ever had," she said into the silence of the room and he chuckled against her skin.

"I think there's more water on the floor than in here." Her thumbs traced over his jaw and she leaned down to kiss him once more.

"Are you complaining?"

He shook his head. "Absolutely not." He leaned his head back against the edge of the tub and closed his eyes. "Let's stay here the rest of the night."

She smiled as she began placing kisses along his throat. "Do you think anyone is missing you?"

He smiled and opened his eyes to look at her. "I think I'm done entertaining people for the day."

Her lips found him and he hugged her closer. When she broke the kiss, she moved along his jaw to his neck. "You're an impressive man, Jon."

"Am I?"

"Mmmm," she hummed. "Not just in bed," she chuckled. "Do you remember when you told me that you didn't like doing what you were good at?"

He nodded. "Vaguely. Seems like a lifetime ago."

"It was," she moved back, feeling him withdraw from her as she rested on his thighs. "I didn't know what you meant. After watching you fight, I realized that was to what you referred. But, I've found another thing you're good at that you don't like. You're good at ruling," she said softly. "Your men respect you. They look to you to lead them, trust in you to protect them. But you hate it. You hate the politics that go along with it. You hate the fighting."

He frowned. "Aye. I don't like distrusting people. My fath...Ned Stark was an honorable man. I suppose it makes me stupid to believe that others should be as well."

She traced over the scar above his brow and then beneath his eye. She took a deep breath and said what was on her mind. "It's not stupid. Naive, maybe. Not stupid." She hesitated to bring up the subject, but it seemed to be hanging between them and she decided that men did tend to listen better when they were prone beneath a naked woman. "Your father, Ned Stark, was an honorable man. Nothing he did should bring that into question."

"Except that he's not my father."

She smiled weakly. "He is in the ways that matter," she said softly. "Consider what could have happened, Jon. He could have left you, allowed Robert to have you killed." She shook her head. "Instead, he brought you into his home and raised you alongside his children. Yes, Catelyn Stark treated you poorly." At his questioning look as to how she knew that she smiled. "Tyrion," she answered and he rolled his eyes. "Did you doubt that he loved you?"

He hesitated for a moment and then sighed. "No. I never doubted that, actually."

She entwined their fingers and tilted her head as she watched him. "It's difficult to get older and watch families have what you long for, the purpose and belonging that goes with being a family. Viserys and I ran for so long that we never had peace. Every time I started to feel like I was in a place I could call home, we found out that they knew where we were and we had to move again. It was never safe, we never had the family that you have here with your siblings. And they are your siblings. You love them like that and they love you."

He closed his eyes and seemed to be deep in thought when he spoke his statement caught her off guard. "I'm afraid."

"Of what?"

"What if this does change how they see me? What if they no longer think of me as their brother but an outsider? What if they don't love me enough to look past this?"

She caught his face in her hands and forced him to look at her. The pain in his eyes was heartbreaking and she wished she could soothe him. Daenerys knew she couldn't quell the ache, though. Only those he loved as brother and sisters could calm him and make him realize that this revelation only meant that his sire was different, not his father. "I've only just met your family, but I can't imagine, after your reunion this morning, that it changes how they feel about you. I've not known you even a fraction as long as they have and it doesn't change how I feel. It's you they love, not your name." She moved off his lap and stood in front of him. "You should talk to them," she said as she climbed from the bath and felt his eyes on her as she reached for her robe and turned to find him watching her. He gave her the half-smile she had grown so accustomed to and she held out her hand to him. "We should retire to my chambers."

He gave a faint nod and took her hand. "I think that's the best idea you've had since you suggested a bath."

Daenerys awoke the next morning to find her bed already empty and the sheets beside her cold. He'd been gone for some time as the fire in the hearth had died as well. A knock on her door sounded and she climbed from the bed and donned her robe to open the door to Missandei. "Your grace," she said with a soft smile. "Lord Snow has requested that you join him in the hall this morning to break your fast."

She nodded as she moved to the vanity and Missandei allowed the attendant in to braid her hair. Her friend moved about the room and laid out the white coat that she hadn't worn since she'd gone beyond the wall with her dragons. It pained her a bit to see it, remembering all that had happened. The loss of Viserion still fell so heavy on her heart that she tried to avoid thinking of it. It was like losing Rhaego again, the ache inside her feeling as if it could never be soothed. Her dragons were what made her extraordinary. At least she felt that way.

"How are you feeling this morning, Your Grace?"

She thought back on the night before and met her friend's eye, a slight blush tingeing her cheeks. "Well rested, Missandei. And you?"

Missandei's cheeks colored pink as well and Daenerys realized she probably had a similar evening. "Same."

She prized the woman's friendship very much. She was her true confidant. She knew she could tell Tyrion anything, but he would often be quick to offer his opinion, whether it was wanted or not. Missandei, on the other hand, kept her confidence and seemed to feel the same about her. The attendant fitted the dragon pendant into her hair and then stepped back, allowing Daenerys to examine the intricate pattern of braids and gave her a nod as she stood. She bid the other woman leave and left Daenerys alone with Missandei. "How is Greyworm?"

She nodded. "He is well, though, he doesn't much care for the cold."

Daenerys heaved a sigh. "It is much harsher than I had imagined."

"You should allow them to come in and make sure the fire is stoked during the night. It would be terrible for you to fall ill."

Daenerys smiled. "I was plenty warm," she said as Missandei helped her lace the dress she was to wear beneath the white coat. She and Missandei shared a smile. "What do you think of him?"

"Jon Snow? He's very...broody."

She laughed. "He is. Not without reason."

"He appears to be an honorable man and he seems to make you happy."

Daenerys pulled on her boots and then looked at her friend and couldn't keep the smile from her face as she thought of Jon. Even though he was possibly the most stubborn person she had met in a very long time, she actually admired that about him. "He does." But that thought caused a moment of panic and she looked up at Missandei. "It's dangerous how I feel for him."

"Dangerous?" she questioned. "How so?"

She frowned. "Having these feelings for him, for anyone really, is a danger to me. Someone could try to use him against me for their own nefarious purposes."

"Would it work?"

Daenerys sighed and shook her head. "I don't know. The last man I loved died, tragically. I already lost a dragon to save Jon. What else would I risk?"

Missandei was silent for a moment and then looked to the queen. "This is a cold and cruel world, Your Grace. You know that as well as anyone." She looked to her hands and Daenerys could see she was speaking from her heart and it warmed her to know that Missandei cared for her as she did. "But there are moments where we get true happiness. I think those are the moments where we're living. Everything else is just one bad thing leading to some sort of good." She looked at Daenerys with a smile. "At least, that's what I hope."

Daenerys stood and took her friend's hands and gave her a smile. "So do I."

"Then we should grasp that which brings us happiness. Hold on to it as long as we can. Otherwise, what are we fighting for?"

Daenerys nodded. "Indeed. Let's not keep them waiting," she said as Missandei turned to the door and opened it.

Tyrion was waiting for them at the bottom of the steps and bowed his head to her. "Your Grace," he said. His tone was odd, even for Tyrion.

"What's happened?" she had an uneasy feeling at her Hand's demeanor and tone, and the last few times she'd felt uneasy around him it had ended with them in heated disagreements.

Tyrion shook his head. "It was a long night. I spent much of it trying to figure out our strategy after the revelation of Jon Snow's true parentage."

Daenerys frowned at Missandei and then back at her hand. "Strategy?"

Tyrion's shoulders sagged and he seemed reluctant to speak. "Your grace, I realize there may be feelings on your side for Jon Snow. I told you there were on his side but you scoffed at the idea," he reminded her. She did scoff. It seemed ridiculous to her that it was even possible for someone to fall for someone so quickly. And yet, she had, he had. "However, this revelation changes things." His voice lowered. "This no longer makes you the heir to the Throne. He's the son of the Crown Prince. There's documentation to support his claim."

The room spun and she put a hand on the stone wall, never having considered the truth to that statement. Her entire life, the entire purpose and driving force for her since Viserys died was to claim the Throne to which only she had a right. But now, Jon Snow was the rightful heir. Not Jon Snow. Aegon Targaryen. He would hate it if he knew she had thought of him that way. But still, she felt like the world was spinning and wanted it to stop. Tyrion didn't look at her but Missandei steadied her at her elbow.

"I hadn't...considered..." she admitted.

"I understand, Your Grace. That's why I'm your Hand. I have considered it and what it means."

Daenerys frowned. Was all of it for nothing? If she had no right to the Throne, what was the purpose of it all? "What have you considered?"

"There are several approaches. Some I know you will vehemently hate. Others, I think you would be much more open to."

"The ones I'll hate?"

"Kill him and his family," he said with a weak smile, but the look on his face told her that he had no intention of allowing her to do anything of the sort. "The second option also involves death, but seeing as I don't feel like being roasted alive today by a dragon, I'll keep that one to myself. However, the most logical option, the one I encourage you to use your sway with him to cultivate, would be marriage."

Missandei looked at Daenerys and she was glad the woman was there. It was frustrating to know that Jon Snow had already eased his way into her heart. When she'd heard the news of his parentage, she hadn't considered the political implications, only that the man she loved was in pain and she wanted to soothe him. But now, faced with the reality of it all, she felt completely out of sorts.

"Then I'm only the Queen to his King. A secondary ruler, never with real power to create change."

Tyrion shook his head. "You want to build a new world. I think he would encourage the one you want. Speak to one another, lay out what it is you want to him. Tell him of your plans to break the wheel. Allow him to see the true and just ruler that you are and that should you marry it would be a marriage of equals set on the same path, the same world."

Daenerys took in what he said and nodded. "I'll think about what you've said. I'll let you know my decision by the end of the day."

Tyrion seemed appeased with this answer and he followed her into the hall where Jon was seated at the head table, his sister, Arya to his left. She didn't know what it was about the girl, but when she looked at her, she felt as if she was weighing her very soul. It made her uneasy. Her eyes met Jon's and he gave her a slight smile as she sat beside him. "Your Grace."

"Your Grace," she whispered back. "So formal," she said as she lifted her goblet to her lips but smiled despite herself. His dark eyes watched her and she contemplated what Tyrion had suggested. She couldn't imagine Jon would have many issues with helping to build a new world, one in which common people had a voice, a way to implicate to their betters the sort of trials and tribulations they suffered. They needed people to advocate for them and a ruler, or rulers, in this case, to listen and help. That's what she truly wanted. She hated suffering and she wanted it to end. It would never be gone completely, not while men with ambition for power still roamed the world. Their vile hatred for other people and belief that they, themselves were worthy of more, would always work for their own means and motivations. But she wanted to believe that they could break the wheel to keep it from trampling on anyone else.

"Did you sleep well, Your Grace?" Arya asked and Daenerys wasn't sure if she liked that this girl had already sussed out that she'd slept with Jon. She could feel several sets of eyes on her, none of which were Jon's who kept his eyes on his plate.

"Yes. The North's hospitality is unrivaled," she said before she took a sip from her goblet.

She thought that Tyrion's efforts to not smirk would break his face, however, he hid it behind a bite of food.

The awkward moment was broken by a guard entering the room and standing before them. "Your Grace," he said to Jon. News had spread that Jon had bent the knee to Daenerys, but the North didn't treat him as if he had submitted. "A rider has arrived. A Gendry Waters."

The clang of metal hit the table beside Jon and everyone turned to look at Arya. Jon turned back to the guard and nodded for him to allow him in. "How do you know him?" Arya questioned and Daenerys looked at the young girl with interest. The better question was, how did she know him?

"He went with us beyond the wall to get wight. He's the one that ran back to get a raven to Daenerys. Gendry didn't travel with us to King's Landing, but rode to the other castles ahead of Winterfell from the wall to warn them that the dead forces weren't that far away and that preparations should be made to shore up defenses." He paused. "I would have thought he'd be here before us."

Chapter 5

ARYA

Her heart was racing. It only ever did that when she was fighting. But now, about to come face to face with her past she couldn't help the shaking in her hands and the way her heart nearly leaped from her chest. Not since she last saw him had she actually felt this way. Not since he'd called her M'lady. She stood abruptly and turned to leave the hall, aware that everyone was watching her go even as she heard the door on the far side of the room open once more. She closed the door behind her and leaned against the wood, waiting to hear if it was really him.

"Your grace," she heard echo into the hall and the scraping of a chair.

"I'm glad to see you made it to Winterfell alive," Jon, ever the capable leader, greeted him. "Won't you join us?"

"I don't wanna intrude," he said finally, a tinge of something different to his voice this time. But she listened as Jon insisted that he join them and wondered exactly what his relationship with Jon was. Were they friends? Was Jon aware they knew one another? Did he know any of it?

"What are you doing?"

She looked up to see Sansa and Brienne both looking at her oddly and she pushed away from the door. "Nothing. I'm going to the Godswood."

"Not for prayer," Sansa said as she walked past them. "What's happened?"

"Nothing. I just want to be alone, to practice with my sword. Seems that's the only place one gets peace around here anymore."

She didn't meet her sister's eyes but left the castle as quickly as she could and into the canopy of trees. Of course, not even here was alone as Bran sat at the base of the tree and he looked over at her as she approached. "I haven't seen you run away from something in a very long time," he remarked.

"I wasn't running away."

Bran simply looked over at her, his expression the same. No emotion, hardly any recognition of the boy he'd once been. "Jon doesn't know you knew each other," he says finally. "Gendry didn't tell him."

"Shut up, Bran," she said as she sat on the bench facing him. "There are some things you can leave out and not say." This seemed to be a new concept for Bran as he tilted his head and examined her.

They both grew silent and she watched as his eyes grew white. It unnerved her to see him do this, as he had only done it a handful of times in front of her. His gasp filled the air and his eyes turned to her and it frightened her that there was raging emotion there. His expression was grave as he spoke. "You need to take me inside. I need to speak with Jon. Now," he said, and the tone of his voice left little room for her to argue. She marched behind him and began pushing him to the hall. As they entered, she glanced at the table and could feel his eyes on her.

"They're coming," Bran said aloud to the room. "Eastwatch has fallen, the wall has fallen. The dead march towards us."

The room was silent and Arya looked at Jon and could see the panic in his eyes. He stood suddenly and leaned over the table. "How far?"

"They're five days. There's more. The Night King...he's on a dragon."

At this, Daenerys stood, her pale skin growing even more so with the news. "My dragon?" she questioned and Arya knew the answer before Bran even spoke.

Bran nodded. "He's fast. Faster than yours. I think it's the magic. He breathes blue flame."

Daenerys leaned over the table, the usually straight faced queen looked on the verge of a meltdown and Arya actually felt bad for her. She's heard that Daenerys considered the dragons her children. But this was worse than losing a child. This was learning your child was being used as an instrument of evil.

Arya could feel eyes on her and realized that Gendry was staring at her and it actually made her skin itch. She was elated he was alive, obviously, but he made her feel things that she wasn't prepared to feel. And after what Bran had just told them, it seemed a cruel twist of fate to bring him back into her life to destroy everything and not give her the chance to be different. Gendry made her feel different.

But all her training had told her that emotions were dangerous. Feeling things for people could lead to bad decisions. It made a person unfocused. That's what was happening to her now. Only when Daenerys stormed from the hall, Jon and Tyrion on her heels did she realize others were leaving. One of the men came to take Bran back to the Godswood while everyone else but Gendry and Arya left the room.

"I'm...glad you're alive. I thought you might have been killed by the red witch."

He continued to stare at her and though she wanted to look away, she couldn't break her eyes from his. "It wasn't because she didn't try."

"How did you escape?"

"Ser Davos released me."

She stepped forward and tilted her head as she examined him. His hair was shorter, he looked thinner, but he was still the stubborn bull she remembered so fondly. "I suppose that's a long story."

"Probably as long as the one regarding how you got your sword back."

Needle. He would remember. She looked down at the hilt of her sword and then back at him. She noted the hammer that leaned against the table and nodded at it. "Took your love of hammers to new heights."

Gendry reached back and lifted it. She could tell it was heavy but he lifted it with ease and practice. She stepped forward and held her hand out and he handed it over willingly. It was heavier than she expected, but she could feel that it was weighted well and knew that if someone swung it at an enemy and they were hit they would not get up easily. She noted the stag on the pommel near the head and furrowed her brow. "A stag? Not a bull?"

"In honor of my father," he said softly.

She raised an eyebrow. "Have a reunion with the man?"

He frowned and shook his head. "No. He's dead. But I know who he is and who I am."

"Who are you?"

"The son of Robert Baratheon. That's why the red witch wanted me. King's blood." He sighed and looked at the floor then back at her. "That's why when Davos found me in King's Landing again and took me to meet Jon, I went without question. It's why I wanted to fight with him."

Arya felt a war within herself as she looked down at the hammer. She was so happy to see him, but for some reason, she also wanted to use his hammer to sweep his legs and pounce on top of him with her knife to his throat. Especially when faced with how quickly he ran to join Jon. "Why Jon and not Robb?"

Chapter 6

GENDRY

Because Jon knows what it's like to be a bastard. "I didn't go with you to your brother Robb because I didn't want to serve any king. I thought the Brotherhood was the solution to that." She frowned and her expressive eyes made him feel raw and exposed. He'd hope to see her again but never trusted in the hope that swelled in his chest when he met Jon. "That didn't work out well."

"Not for anyone." She heaved a sigh. "I'm glad you're alive."

"You too. I never doubted that you were," he said softly but regretted it as he watched her expression change. "You were always going to survive."

"I suppose we're similar in that way."

She handed him his hammer and he held it at his side. "Are you any good?"

He smiled. "Decent."

"Care to show me?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Why not?"

"I don't want to hurt you."

She smirked. "It's a nice sentiment. That you think you could."

"A hammer is different than a sword. More force than finesse."

"Sounds like an excuse."

"And what if I actually hit you? Your brother has me killed?"

Arya smiled. "Again, it's nice that you think you'll get a hit."

He shook his head. "I don't want to fight you."

"Why?"

He sighed. "Years, Arya. I haven't seen you in years. The last thing I want to do is fight with you, of all people."

She was silent for a moment. "Maybe I want to fight you. Maybe I want to hurt you for choosing the Brotherhood over me."

"I didn't choose them over you."

"I wanted you to go with us. I wanted you to help Robb and you..."

He stepped forward, frustrated that she didn't understand. "I said 'no' because I didn't want to intrude on your family. I didn't want to watch you eventually become a true Stark lady and marry some high-born Lord who would never appreciate you." He turned his eyes from her and hoped she understood without him having to say it. "You offered to be my family but we both know that wasn't realistic. I was a bastard and you were a high-born out of reach."

She shook her head. "You're so stupid," she said frustrated. "I'm never going to be a lady like Sansa. I don't want that. I've never wanted that."

"It was different then. You were going to be reunited with your family and I would have been the bastard smith that was reaching for something he could never have. And there was the small fact that you were still quite young..."

"What's your excuse now?"

"I don't have one."

She hesitated for a moment and then did something truly unexpected, she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. "You don't get to choose my path for me," she whispered. He dropped the hammer to the ground beside him and wrapped his arms around her waist. "You don't get to leave me again."

He closed his eyes and breathed her in. "As M'lady commands."

She turned her head towards his ear. "Call me that again and I'll gled you and you can join the Unsullied."

He squeezed her a bit tighter and smiled against her shoulder. "A tragic end that would be."

She pulled away from him but didn't release him. "You didn't tell Jon you knew me."

He furrowed his brow and voiced the question now roaming through him. "How did you know that?"

"Bran. He told me. He can see...everything. Why didn't you tell him?"

"Because I couldn't tell him what happened to you," he explained. "I knew you were alive, I just didn't know where to find you. The Boltons had Winterfell..."

"I was in Braavos."

He shook his head. "A long story?"

"Very."

"You'll tell me?"

"We'll have time. You're not leaving me again."

He shook his head. "No, I'm not."

She shrugged and released him. "Then I'm in no hurry to tell you."

He smirked. "Until then?"

"You're going to show me what you can do with your hammer."

His eyes met hers again and the look she gave him was challenging. She wasn't the little girl he'd known and had confusing feelings about. She was a woman and one who seemed to know what she wanted without hesitation. "I'm not fighting you."

She nodded. "You made that clear. But you can still show me the balance and form."

He lifted the hammer and followed her out of the hall and into the courtyard. They came upon Brienne and Poddrick sparring and Pod once again ended up lying face down on the ground as Brienne had tripped him and tagged his back with her sword. Gendry stared at the largest woman he'd ever seen and watched as she repeatedly bested the squire.

Arya sighed. "Widen your stance," she instructed.

It was only a few moments that Arya and Gendry were watching when he felt the presence of two others standing behind them. Arya turned and faced them, her expression grave. "Jaime Lannister."

Pod managed to get a hit on Brienne as she turned to look at Jaime, and he took three huge steps back and dropped his sword, realizing that the woman would put him into the snow again. Instead, she moved over to Jaime. "Ser Jaime."

"I need to speak to the Queen," Jaime insisted and Gendry watched as something passed between the large woman and the famed knight.

The man beside Jaime moved over to the squire and smiled. "Are you ever not getting your ass kicked?"

"Squires life."

"The Queen isn't here," Brienne announced, and all eyes were on her once more.

Arya frowned. "What do you mean?"

Brienne frowned. "After what Bran told them about the dragon, she climbed on the great black one and flew over the wood."

"And Lord Snow?" Jaime asked.

At this Brienne straightened and glanced at Arya. "He took the green one and went after her."

Chapter 6

JON

Panic threatened to sweep through his entire body at hearing the Night King had a dragon. The army of the dead was a scary enough prospect, but with a dragon in his guard, it made the whole thing seem even more impossible. He looked to Daenerys and she was on the verge of both fury and sorrow. And when she stormed from the room he and Tyrion went after her. He saw her run through the courtyard and gates and he kept up with her though when she stepped up to Drogon and climbed onto his back he felt lost. "DAENERYS!" he shouted. He and Tyrion watched her soar into the air and go west over the wood.

"You have to talk to her and get her to calm down," Tyrion demanded.

"She's on her dragon! What am I supposed to do?" He felt despair at the entire thing. The same feeling that Tyrion's face showed.

"There's another dragon. And you're a Targaryen. Go fucking get her!"

Jon looked over at Rhaegal who was staring at Jon as if he understood their conversation.

"I've never been on a dragon."

Tyrion seemed close to trying to throttle Jon. "If you love her, bring her back where she's safe!"

Jon looked at the green dragon that now had his enormous snout in his face. He extended his hand and hoped that the reaction was friendly, as it had been the night before when he'd been with Daenerys. The dragon allowed him to pet him and made the decision that he would try. At this point, he wasn't sure what else he had to lose. He moved to his side and stepped foot on his wing then hoisted himself in place. He held on as Rhaegal ran over the ground and the flew into the air over the trees.

It was a thrilling experience at the same time it was terrifying. The wind blew into his face but he could make out the faint outline of Drogon circling a field and then land. He didn't know how to command Rhaegal to do the same but he soon landed near Drogon, and Jon thought that maybe the dragons had a sense about their mother and when she needed them. He found her on the ground, leaning against the black dragon with her knees pulled to her chest and her head buried. He heard her sniffle and realized she was crying.

The snow crunched beneath his feet as he got closer and moved to kneel in front of her. She lifted her head and his heart broke for her as tears slid over her face openly. "Daenerys," he said softly.

"Viscerion. My child. He's using my child," her voice broke.

He swiped at her tears and pulled her into his arms to let her cry. He held her against him and never shushed her. She clung to him, allowing her pain, anger, and frustration to flow out freely. He knew why she left. She was a queen. To cry or lose her composure in front of others would be viewed as a weakness. Jon appreciated that she allowed him to see it and allowed him to comfort her. "We'll defeat him," he said after a while. He moved to sit beside her as they leaned against Drogon, shielded from the wind by his large body."You and I. Together."

"How?" the sound was weak and lacked motivation.

He took a shaky breath himself and laced his fingers with hers. "I don't know. But we'll think of something."

They were both silent and he wished the world could stay like this: softly falling snow, his family safe at Winterfell, and the woman he had fallen in love with at his side. Life was too fucked up to stay this nice for too long, which made him want to fight for it more.

"Three heads of the dragon," she said finally. "It's complete."

"What do you mean?"

"Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viscerion. Drogon is mine. The Night King...he's on the other," she said, her voice breaking at the words, "and you ride Rhaegal."

Jon looked over at the green dragon, wondering what at the implication of her words. Would he be able to ride Rhaegal all the time? He still felt like a Stark. Nothing revealed had made him feel like a Targaryen as the only stories he knew of his...sire were horrible tales that all seemed to not be true. "I think that might have been a one-time thing."

"Dragons don't make exceptions." She explained further, "They are finite. He let you ride him alone, without me. They sense dragon's blood. You're the son of Rhaegar Targaryen." She paused and then looked up at him, a bit of awe in her eyes. "It makes sense that Rhaegal would allow you..."

"None of this makes sense," he sighed out in frustration.

"It's said that every dragon has a rider. I thought that because they were my children they wouldn't need them. But they do." She looked up at him and his eyes met hers. "Rhaegal needs you."

He leaned his head back against the black dragon and closed his eyes, truly feeling as if the weight of the world was sitting on his shoulders and was crushing him one agonizing moment at a time. But she was beside him and though she was in pain, she was still strong and resolute in her mission. If ever anyone deserved to be called a queen it was Daenerys Targaryen. "I need you. I need you to help me lead and plan. We have to figure out a way to protect our people."

She smirked. "Our people? Your people," she said finally. "You're the true heir to the Iron Throne."

He shook his head. "None of that matters, now."

"It's always mattered. You are the one that could truly unite the realm of men. We have five days. We could send ravens asking for everyone, serve Jon Snow or Aegon Targaryen. King."

"I don't want to be king," he admitted. "I didn't want to be King of the North. They named me King. I don't want the title."

"Maybe not. But maybe you're the king we choose."

Ever since he'd known her, she'd been so determined and certain that it was her divine right to be the queen of Westeros. She'd conquered the slave cities, made allies with impossible allies, had three living dragons, and never questioned her ability and right to it all. It made him uneasy that she seemed to be stepping away from it only because of the revelation of his parentage. "You're giving up your claim?"

She shook her head. "No. I want it a different way."

"How?"

"Rule by your side as an equal," she answered, then turned on her knees and faced him. "I want to break the wheel that crushes over everyone. The one that cycles rulers and families, putting someone on top at all times but destroying those who depend on their leadership. It's all I've thought about the last few years. Help those who would never be able to help themselves. Allow people to have a voice."

She had once told him that they both wanted to help people and it could only be done from a position of strength. He'd seen her strength, her power, and knew that the people who followed her believed in her. He believed in her. And her idea of giving power to people to help themselves out of the current system seemed an idea he had never considered. Then, she'd been wielding power and directing others for far longer than he had. "How do you propose we do this?"

"Everyone has their way of choosing leaders. We would rule together, be the king and queen who advocates for their people. Allow them to address grievances. No longer need spiders and whisperers. Be open with the people. Allow them to select people to represent them..."

"Why tell me this?" he asked.

"Because this is the world I want to build," she said as she took his face between her hands and stroked her gloved thumb over his bottom lip. "Like it or not, you're the heir. I can't do it without you, and to be honest...I don't want to."

He frowned. "But none of this matters if we don't defeat the Night King."

She sighed. "How do we do that? Even with Cersei's army, how do we defeat them?"

He held her within the circle of his arms and tried to block out the world. It was nearly more than he could take. Giants, wights, the Night King, and now a dragon faster than the two she had. "We'll consult our counsels. Maybe someone has an idea," he said as he pulled back and stood then held his hand out to help her to her feet. "We'll find a way to win this war."

She stared at his hand for a moment, then placed hers in his and stood to her feet once more, determination in her gaze. "And if not, we'll make it such a fight that no one will ever forget it."

Chapter 8

SANSA

Brienne and Arya walked into the family solar, causing Sansa to look up in question at the two imposing women. The look on their faces was grave and she wondered what else could possibly go wrong. She'd been examining the scrolls for houses that were declared to the Starks, trying to calculate how many people they were going to be responsible for housing. Ravens had already been sent, urging everyone to come immediately to Winterfell. The first groups would arrive the following day and she was certain a steady influx would continue until it all started.

"Jon's rode off on a dragon to chase Daenerys," Arya stated and Sansa's eyes widened a bit.

"He's riding dragons now?" Sansa questioned.

"Least of our worries," Arya stated. "Jaime Lannister has arrived and has asked to speak to the person in charge while Jon is out. That leaves you."

Sansa closed her eyes for a moment. She respected Tyrion because he had always been respectful to her. Jaime, she had no respect for considering how he nearly fell over himself to protect his wicked sister. She often wondered how much agony the world might have avoided had he possessed a spine in order to stand up to his sister. Would Margaery still be alive? Loras? Would Tyrell House still exist?

But he hadn't fought Cersei on anything she did. Instead, he'd been complicit. She folded her hands in her lap and nodded at them and Brienne moved to the door to escort Jaime and Bronn into the room. Arya had moved around the desk, her hand on her sword as they stood before her. "Welcome to Winterfell. Different than when you were last here, isn't it? After all, most of my family is dead. Thanks to yours."

She saw Brienne straighten behind Jaime, but the man kept his eyes firmly on Sansa and didn't waiver. "A lot has happened."

"It has. Jon told me you would eventually make your way here with Cersei's army. I'm surprised she held true to her word."

Bronn turned his head to look at Jaime then the floor. Jaime, however, glanced down and then back at her. "She didn't."

Arya spoke before she did. "What? What do you mean?"

Jaime sighed. "She lied. She has no intention of sending anyone to help in this fight."

"And she wants you dead?" Sansa questioned. "Otherwise, why would she send you to relay her treachery?"

He hesitated for a moment and then took a deep breath before he answered her, "She didn't send me. I came of my own accord because I made a promise."

"Lannisters don't keep promises they make unless they're promises of death. Why are you here?"

"I brought a small contingent of men with me. We intend to help in this fight."

"How small?" Brienne questioned.

Jaime heaved a sigh and answered his eyes meeting Sansa's once more and she wished she could have him killed and send his head back to his sister. How would the queen of the south handle that? Would she seek vengeance? "Twelve. Including Bronn and myself."

"Twelve?" Sansa scoffed.

"What do you expect Jon to do with twelve?" Arya asked.

"They're willing to fight. So are we," Jaime said, though she wondered how willing Bronn was to enter the fray?

"And we welcome you, brother," Tyrion's voice sounded behind Jaime and Bronn and he walked to Sansa, his eyes pleading. "At this point, we need everyone we can get."

"We don't need traitors," she answered. "Why should we trust you?"

"He's here," Tyrion answered. "That's all we need."

"That's all you need," Sansa responded. "He's your brother and you love him. But he's been part of schemes that have caused several of my family members to die. We've already killed one traitor in Winterfell. Lord Baelish begged for his life at the end. Would you beg as well?"

Sansa could feel Arya step closer to her, prepared to strike if needed, but Brienne spoke up. "Lady Sansa, may I have a word?"

"I'd like one as well," Tyrion insisted.

Sansa glanced at Arya who shrugged a shoulder, letting her know that it was her decision. "Very well. Guard," she called and one of the guards from outside the room stood in the doorway. "Escort Ser Jaime and Ser Bronn to rooms. They must be exhausted after their journey from King's Landing. Make sure they're fed as well. I'd hate for anyone to die on an empty stomach," she threatened.

Jaime looked close to rage, however, he followed the guard out of the room and Bronn stepped to the door. "I really just wanted to speak to Tyrion, if I could before I'm executed."

"Eat well, Ser Bronn," Sansa said and he made a face letting her know his displeasure before the guard escorted him out of the room. "Close the door, Brienne."

She did as asked and Tyrion turned his attention to Sansa. "You can't kill him or have him killed."

"Can't I? He admitted that his sister, your sister, lied to Jon and the queen about sending forces to our aid."

"But he is here, my lady," Brienne pleaded. "He could have left us here hoping for them to come. He was true to his word."

"With the exception of Tyrion, a Lannister's word doesn't mean anything to me."

"At least wait until your brother and Daenerys return," Brienne pleaded.

"I beseech you, my lady," Tyrion urged. "He's come here because he knows what it is we face. I saw that dead thing at the meeting. Brienne saw it," he said as he looked to the larger woman to agree. She nodded as well, her expression grave. "If this has pushed Jaime to come help us, maybe he's the ally we need."

Sansa weighed his words carefully. She knew Tyrion loved his brother, to a fault. He'd always believed in Jaime even when it wasn't warranted. She never understood Tyrion's loyalty to Jaime. He allowed his sister and father to treat Tyrion badly and claimed he loved him all the same. A part of her, a tiny voice inside her, argued that she had done the same with Jon until she needed him.

She looked at Arya. "What do you think?"

Arya frowned. "He's telling the truth."

Tyrion and Brienne both seemed to sag in relief, hoping that would be enough to keep Sansa from carrying out an execution. "How can you tell?" Sansa asked, not willing to give either of them too much hope.

"The same way I can tell that Tyrion is near to collapsing on the floor and Brienne from flinging herself in front of Jaime to protect him." At their looks, Arya continued, her eyes meeting those of her sister. "He's also not wearing the Lannister armor I saw him in at the Twins, and he only brought twelve men, hardly enough to lead a coup against us. If he did come here, maybe it was against Cersei's orders."

Sansa frowned. "Do you trust him?"

At that, she scoffed. "No. But then I don't trust most people," she answered. "Whatever you decide, I'll back you," Arya said finally. "However, I would caution doing anything before Jon or Daenerys come back."

"Then the decision will be taken out of my hands." Tyrion made a sound and she looked over at him. She almost felt bad. She did know how the two brothers felt for one another. It was probably Jaime's only redeeming feature that he had loved Tyrion despite everyone around him telling him he shouldn't. At least some part of his small heart still beat for a reason besides his own self-preservation.

Arya shrugged. "Maybe that's for the best if you can't be impartial. I can't either. Jon and Daenerys are not us, though," she said softly.

Sansa looked to the pleading face of Tyrion and even Brienne and felt for them. Their care for Jaime Lannister was evident. She wondered if they would think her a monster if she sent Arya to kill him? Would they insist she be killed for not allowing him to defend himself?

"Arya," she said finally. "Come with me to the Godswood," she said as she stood and walked to the door.

"And Jaime?" Tyrion questioned and she turned to face her former husband.

"He'll stay alive. For now," she said as she led the way out of the room.

Bran was exactly where she wanted him to be. She suspected that Brienne and Tyrion would be with Jaime and Bronn. The sellsword meant little to her and if she killed Jaime she would allow him to live. She knew he had been loyal to Tyrion and that might be a factor that would keep him from trying to kill her in her sleep. She didn't want to fight with the Hand to the queen, but she felt strongly about the Lannister family, even if she didn't count him amongst their most treacherous.

Arya was at her side as Sansa moved to stand in front of Bran who didn't even react to her presence. "Ser Jamie is here," Bran said and looked up at Sansa. "And you want to know what to do?"

"I want to know several things," she said. "Is Jaime here because Cersei sent him?"

He shook his head. "She's told Euron Greyjoy that if he brings her his head, she'll marry him."

Arya shifted at this news. "She cares so little for him? Why?"

"She's pregnant with his child. She doesn't need him anymore," Bran answered.

Sansa frowned and cursed Jaime. How could he be so stupid? Cersei was pregnant again, and given what Joffrey was, even with the influence of his father, legitimate or otherwise, the child could be worse than his older brother. "Can we trust him?"

Bran nodded. "We can now."

Arya furrowed her brow and shifted in her stance. "What do you mean, now ?"

At that moment, Jon came into the Godswood, looking as if he had run. He was panting heavily as he moved to stand beside Bran. "What do you mean having Jaime locked away?"

"He's in a room. Not a cell," Sansa clarified. "Tyrion meet you as you came into the gate?"

"Brienne," he answered. "He came to aid us, Sansa."

"With twelve men."

This caused Jon to pause, but he looked at his sister with a resolute determination. "Twelve more than we had," he insisted.

Arya looked back to Bran and frowned. "What did you mean we can trust him now?"

Bran looked at each of them and answered. "I never remembered who did it before I became the three-eyed raven. Once I had the full power, it was one of the first things I watched."

"What?" Sansa questioned.

"I was shoved from the tower. I had climbed up and found Jaime and Cersei having sex. Cersei kept saying that I saw them and Jaime asked how old I was, and I told him. He looked at her and said 'The things I do for love' and he shoved me out of the window." Sansa could see Arya grip the hilt of her knife and she hoped that her sister stormed back to the castle and slit his throat. However, she didn't. Neither did Jon, but they both looked to the verge of committing murder. "But you can trust him now," Bran answered. "He argued with Cersei about betraying Jon and Daenerys. He fought for bringing their men North to fight. She nearly had him killed by the Mountain and sent Bronn to kill him on the road here. Bronn is loyal to both Lannister men. They don't have the army you need," he said to Jon, "but Jaime is a commander on the battlefield, and you need him."

She turned her blue eyes to Jon who was staring at Bran, a look between confusion and anger warring over his features. She realized, with some horror, that Jon was considering not having him executed. "You can't be seriously considering allowing him to live?" But at Arya and Jon's exchanged look, Sansa was ready to kill him herself. "He nearly killed our brother."

Jon withdrew Longclaw and knelt before Bran. "It's your life he nearly took. If you tell me to trust him, to allow him to live and help us, I will. My word as a Stark, I would avenge you if you say the words."

"I didn't die. Had he not taken my legs, I might not be the three-eyed raven now. I'm more than I ever would have been if I was simply Lord Stark." Bran shook his head. "You need him to help you. He and Bronn know of a weapon to use to take down dragons," Jon's shoulders eased at that, and he stood and sheathed Longclaw. "You can trust him." He looked at the three of them and his eyes met Sansa's. "He's not what he once was. He's here to help. You need help," Bran said finally, looking at Jon. "Tyrion is advocating to Daenerys, now, to keep Jaime alive."

Sansa felt rage building in her chest as she watched Jon lower his head then turn his dark eyes to hers. "Don't."

"Sansa...you don't know what's coming for us."

"He started all of this when he shoved Bran from that window! Mother went south and told them about what she found. They suspected Tyrion."

"But all of that was actually started by Littlefinger," Arya argued. "The letter to Mother from Lyssa. Jon Arryn's poisoning. All of it was because..."

"He nearly killed you!" She practically screamed at Bran, but the younger boy had no reaction to his sister's rage and hurt. "Am I the only one who thinks that a man who tries to kill a little boy is not a man worth trusting?" How could they not see?

Arya spoke first and looked to Jon. "I...agree with Sansa," she said softly and Sansa felt relief. If Jon wouldn't listen to her, he would most assuredly listen to Arya. "But I also agree with Bran."

"What?" Sansa questioned.

Arya frowned. "He did almost kill Bran. He should be killed for that," she agreed. "But...the dead are coming and we need someone with skills in planning for battles. Jon and Jaime together could give us a chance..."

"So, his sins against our family mean nothing?"

"They don't mean...I need him alive, Sansa," Jon said finally.

"This is like with Ramsay all over again. You didn't listen to me then and you nearly lost that battle."

He turned to face her fully, fury on his features and it was the first time that she realized he was more than a Stark. The cold and calculated words he said next cut her as if he'd used his own blade, "The last I checked, I was king in the north," he said coldly. "Not you. We need every advantage and if that is Jaime fucking Lannister alive to help us plan, then I'll wait until after we've won to dole out justice."

Sansa's back straightened, her eyes narrowing at Jon. "Is that your order as a king? Because the last I checked , you bent the knee to Daenerys Targaryen."

"Aye, I did. Because she was a person willing to fight. She gave up one of her dragons to save my pathetic life after going on a mission that was flawed from the beginning. It was dangerous, she was advised not to, but she took her dragons beyond the wall and saved our lives while losing one of her children." His eyes never met hers, hard and unyielding, but she didn't back or look away. "I would bend the knee to that person every day if it meant I had her fighting with me."

"With you? Or you for her?"

Jon straightened his shoulders and looked down at his hands. "I asked you once to trust me. That we had to trust one another. I will not hear any more about this, Sansa. I don't care if you don't like my decision; it is final," he said as he began walking away and then turned. "Arya," he said as he faced them again. "You're not to kill him, either."

Arya raised an eyebrow and nodded. "I won't."

Jon gave a final nod and left the Godswood. Sansa looked at Bran who appeared to have something close to sympathy on his face, but it was only a ghost of an emotion before he was back to being strange. He turned his eyes back to the heart tree and Sansa looked at Arya. "I've always known that you loved Jon more than me..."

Arya frowned. "That has nothing to do with it," she said softly. "I'm insulted that you would think that colored my decision in any way."

"Didn't it?"

"No. We're fighting a war, Sansa. War creates strange allies." She sighed. "I don't trust Jaime Lannister. I don't trust any Lannister, not even your former husband. But, I trust Bran, Jon, and you. He heard you and what you had to say. You want us to value your opinion, and I do. But battles are different than politics. Someone with battlefield experience is something we need."

"And if he betrays us?"

"He'll die a painful death. You have my word as a Stark," she said softly.

Sansa frowned and began walking out of the Godswood, Arya beside her. "I suppose that will have to keep me warm at night."

Arya smirked. "You've changed, sister. Used to be thoughts of marrying a prince and having babies that kept you warm."

She pulled the hood of her cloak over her head as it began to snow. "Now, the only thing that gives me comfort is knowing that eventually, everyone who ever wronged our family will die."

"I'm not going to kill Jaime Lannister for you," she said after they made it to outside the doors to the hall. "I told Jon I wouldn't and I won't."

Sansa looked over at her and stopped walking. "I'm not asking you to. The battle will be long and hard. What are the chances a man with one hand makes it out of that alive?"

Arya frowned. "Let's hope he's a better war strategist than a swordsman," she said as she led the way into the hall and back to the solar where Jon was seated behind the desk as Tyrion was speaking to him. They all stopped as Sansa entered, Tyrion looking close to throttling her himself.

"If you've come to take my brother's head, it appears you'll have to wait," he said after a moment.

Sansa moved to sit in a chair beside the fire. "I'll wait to have his head. After he proves himself of some use maybe I won't take it," she said as she leveled a look at her former husband and brother. Daenerys entered the room, accompanied by Brienne of Tarth, Jaime Lannister, and Bronn. Jaime's eyes moved to Sansa, and they narrowed at her. Her gaze didn't waver from his but he eventually turned his attention back to Jon.

"You nearly killed my brother, Bran," Jon stated evenly.

Tyrion looked over at Jaime and then back at the desk. Daenerys, however, turned her attention to Jaime. "Is that true?"

Sansa hoped he would lie to prove what an untrustworthy person he was. Then Jon would see that he should die. "I did. An action I deeply regret to this day."

"My sister has advocated for killing you," he said, gesturing to Sansa. She felt several people looking at her, but her eyes never wavered from the man who had nearly killed her brother.

Daenerys moved around the desk and took the chair beside Jon. Sansa wondered how much influence she had over Jon. Did he listen to her about strategy? Did she have his complete trust while he still questioned hers? "Your grace," Tyrion started to interject and Daenerys held up her hand to silence him.

"I believe your brother is fully capable of speaking for himself, Tyrion. Why should we trust you?" Daenerys asked.

"If I was you, I probably wouldn't. It would be easier to kill me rather than wonder what my true motives are."

"And I suppose asking you to be honest for the first time in your life would be asking too much?" Sansa inwardly smiled as Daenerys didn't seem so willing to back down. She was starting to like the dragon queen more than she originally thought. "Ser Jaime, you've come to Winterfell to tell us that your sister has broken her word and has no intention of helping us but is doing the very thing she swore she wouldn't do. Why should we believe that you are here out of the goodness of your heart?"

"I saw that thing," Jaime said as he stepped forward. "That dead thing that tried to kill my sister. I believed you when you said you went beyond the wall. I believed you when you told me how many. I tried to get Cersei to see reason..."

"But not even you can get through to her. Why shouldn't I fly my dragon to the Red Keep and roast her alive inside? Take her army from her?"

"A lot of people, innocent people would die if that happened," Jaime said and Sansa could see that he was trying to get them to see reason. "I did something horrible years ago, something I've lived to regret. A lot of things, actually. But I'm here because I'm trying to keep all of those innocent people, and countless others, from dying as well. Kill me if that's what you want," at Tyrion's attempted protest, Jaime shook his head. "But I'm here to help you."

Daenerys lowered her head and then looked over at Jon who hadn't taken his eyes off Jaime. "I spoke with Bran. He says I should trust you now." Jaime remained silent, but Sansa felt a sense of panic that he may have talked himself out of being killed. There was a growl behind Jaime and Sansa could see fear race across his face as they all turned slowly, one by one to see the large direwolf, Ghost. The red eyes in his face glowed ominously and Sansa hoped that the wolf would kill him simply because it was feeding off Jon's anger. Jon shifted in his seat, his eyes locked on the wolf. "I won't take your head, Ser Jaime. But should you give me a reason not to trust you, you needn't worry about Arya and her knife, Daenerys or her dragons, or Dothraki screamers. You should worry that my direwolf will devour you before you can so much as scream." The wolf continued to growl and reared back on its haunches, prepared to strike. "Ghost," he called and the wolf stopped, righted himself then moved through the room and around to perch beside Jon, towering over him even as he sat down.

Sansa watched Daenerys as she stared at the wolf, that while sitting, was nearly as tall as she was standing. Ghost came and went from the keep as he pleased. He was a direwolf and not all that beholden to command. It made her miss Lady and the bond they could have had. Joffrey and Cersei had robbed her of that. Justice for an injustice. The only injustice was that her sweet pup had to die. One of another long list of reasons she hated Cersei Lannister.

Daenerys turned her attention back to Jaime and resumed her seat beside Jon. Her countenance never changed as she regarded the man who had slain her father. Maybe that was a way to get her to side with Sansa. She knew that if she had Joffrey here she'd want to watch him die a thousand deaths, each more painful than the one before. But her father was very different from Aerys Targaryen, the Mad King. Eddard Stark was honorable, more so than they ever thought, but King Aerys had been mad and threatened to kill everyone in King's Landing, simply to keep out his enemies. He deserved to die. She would never say that to Daenerys, but the woman had proven to be level-headed enough that she assumed she knew that the Mad King had earned his name. And the murderer was standing before them, offering his help.

Jon stood then and sighed. "I'll let you keep your life if you tell me how to build the weapon your sister has that can kill a dragon."

Jaime looked over at Bronn and then back at Jon. "I can do that," he said finally.

Sansa looked down at her hands, wishing there was something she could do or say to make all of them change their minds, but when she realized there wasn't, she stormed from the room.

Chapter 9

JAIME

He felt a bit of smug satisfaction that Sansa didn't get what she wanted. Part of the smugness was because he got to keep his life. He didn't know exactly how they knew what he'd done, what role he played in the near death of their brother, but it couldn't have come at a worse time. Jaime was only so happy that Jon and Daenerys seemed to be reasonable, though he was curious if it would be his last day alive. It probably would have been had they not arrived when they had.

"Guard," Jon called and one of the many guards appeared in the doorway. "I need Greyworm of the Unsullied, Ser Jorah Mormont, Sandor Clegane, and the Lords of each house in the hall within the hour. I need a map of the North. A recent one," he said and Daenerys stood as well, her shoulders back, ready to face the coming battle as well. Jaime watched as the guard left and then turned back to Jon.

Daenerys looked at Bronn and spoke, "Tell me about his weapon."

Jaime walked over to the wall and removed a crossbow, showing the center arm of the bow. "There is a metal piece, like that of a hip joint, that gives it free movement and allows it to rotate in all directions. There's a mechanism that you crank to pull the string tight."

"How heavy is the weapon?" Jon questioned.

"A spear as large as I am only pierced the black dragon..."

"Not from lack of trying," Bronn added and Jaime noticed the cold look Daenerys gave him. "No offense."

An hour later found them in the great hall, a large map spread out on a table and held down with various knives. Tyrion had placed a bag on the table and removed several pieces taken from Daenerys' painted table at Dragonstone. Three dragons, two of which were placed over Winterfell and the other at the Wall. Jaime felt his heart sink. Cersei had been right, she had lost a dragon. "You don't have all three?" he questioned.

She shook her head. "The Night King has it," she answered, her tone cold.

We're fucked. "Which is why you need the weapon," Jaime realized and shook his head. "How?"

"In an effort to bring your sister a wight," Daenerys replied, and her tone was cold and accusing. "I went to the capture party beyond the wall. The Night King threw an ice spear and killed Viscerion. He's apparently resurrected him and that's what they used to bring down the wall."

Jaime's head was spinning. Not only did the Night King have a dragon but the wall was down. "When did the wall come down?"

Jon frowned. "A few days ago. They'll be here in five days."

"How do you know that?" Bronn questioned.

Jon furrowed his brow. "We have a greenseer amongst us."

He took in that information and regarded the King in the North. "Anything else I should know?"

Jon shook his head, but Daenerys nodded. "Jon is the true heir to the Iron Throne. He is the legitimate son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. There is a Maester's record that shows his marriage to Elia Martell was annulled while at the same time he married Lyanna."

Jaime looked to Daenerys. "And you still fight beside the man who will replace you on the throne?"

Jon looked over at her and then back at Jaime. "I'm not replacing her. We'll take the throne from your sister together. After we defeat the dead."

Jaime frowned and realized they'd been honest with him when they didn't have to be. He hated that he felt obligated to do the same. "Cersei has purchased the Gold Company. She'll be using Euron's ships to bring them to King's Landing."

"He might have a bit of a fight from some of the Iron Fleet," Jon responded. "Theon has gone to get his sister."

"And you expect him to win?" Jaime scoffed.

"I expect that Theon will not come back empty handed," he answered. "Seeking revenge for your family can be a powerful motivator."

Two hours later found Jaime, Bronn, Sandor Clegane, Tyrion Lannister, Ser Davos Seaworth, Brienne of Tarth, Lord Glover, Jorah, Lady Mormont and the rest of the North's bannermen all gathered around the table. The pieces had been laid out and Lord Glover was currently arguing with Tyrion about the use of the Northron forces and how he was uncertain that a Lannister should dictate his troops' movements.

Daenerys spoke up. "Enough. Lord Glover, Tyrion Lannister is my hand. Jaime Lannister is a tried and tested battle commander who even had the misfortune of facing off against one of my dragons. You're part of our army as we're willing to sacrifice our lives to try to save those of your people. All people. Allow yourself to listen."

Lyanna Mormont stepped forward and turned to the Queen. "Where would you like the soldiers of Bear Island?"

Jaime nearly smiled at the fight in the little girl. "Bear Island will be well represented closest to the wall. I don't know what your weapon specialty is, my lady..."

"I'm best with a bow," she answered. "I can use a sword, but I prefer the bow."

"How many people do you have, Lady Mormont?"

"One hundred thirty-four. Twenty-three tested soldiers that fought with King Snow at the Battle of the Bastards. The others have been training since we were asked to do so. Seventy archers, fifteen with spears, but most are good with the use of a sword."

Jaime smiled at the little bear and nodded, taking the figure and setting it on the wall. "I would have your archers on the wall, you as well, to help lead them. Since the dead can be killed by fire, we'll have it beside you, ready to light your arrows."

"Fire," Daenerys said at looked around at the group. "That's the key to protecting the keep. What if we were to dig trenches and cover that with pitch? Only light a level once the group has had to retreat. It buys us time and allows us to regroup, but keeps the dead at bay for a bit."

"Where, my queen?" Jorah asked. Daenerys looked at the map.

"Moats of fire. The Unsullied," she said as she looked at Greyworm, "our first line. Skilled warriors to fight and finish off as much of the dead as they can. The dead army has giants, so those will need to be eliminated first. Cut them off at the knees and use the dragon glass to kill them."

Jon moved over beside her and looked at the loop she'd drawn around the northern side of the castle. "Should the Unsullied have to retreat, the next phase will be the remaining Unsullied and the Dothraki. We'll keep as many of their archers on the wall as we can, but their horses and skills mounted will help us," he said, seeing Daenerys' plan and realizing that it could work. "Then another moat of fire," he said. We'll leave this the widest berth closest to the castle. We need four of those...Scorpions," he looked to Jaime who nodded at the use of the name, "on the wall. If that dragon gets close to our troops, it's to be shot down. We need spears forged of dragonglass."

"We have a skilled blacksmith in our service," Davos responded. "I believe Gendry could make what you're asking. He was trained by one of the best in King's Landing."

"Gendry says he's a fighter," Jon reminded.

"He was a smith, first," Arya answered. "He could forge them," she said as she moved over to the table. "Who is defending the wall?"

Daenerys used the sigils of House Glover, Manderly, Stark, and the rest of the Northern banners against the wall then placed the lion of the Lannisters. "We'll have a contingent inside the walls should anything get through. But this is the hold for the North. This is where The North will make its stand."

"And what of the dragons?" Davos asked. "We're fighting one, yes, but what of the other two?"

Jon and Daenerys looked at one another and it was then Jaime realized they were more than just allies. When had the King in the North, now proclaimed to be the heir of the Seven Kingdoms, bed the Mother of Dragons? Jon didn't strike him as a man capable of seducing a woman, he lacked the overall confidence needed. That left the dragon queen, who seemed to ooze confidence in her every movement. It explained why they proclaimed they were going to rule together, take the kingdom from Cersei together.

Love always seemed to play a part, despite how the foundation of it all seemed to be at complete odds with wars that were raged. "Daenerys will be on Drogon, the winged shadow," Jon said. "Making sweeps towards the back. I think we should aim for the White Walkers, as we know when one falls that those they turned fall as well."

"And the green dragon?" Jorah questioned.

"Jon will ride Rhaegal until which time it falls back to the third line. He's then on the ground with you," Daenerys answered. "And I'll continue with Drogon and Rhaegal to make sweeps. Ser Jorah, Bronn, and Clegane, I would request that the three of you use your skills to defend the walls. Ser Davos, I would put you on the wall with Lady Mormont."

"And Brienne?" Jaime asked. "Where will she be?"

"Protecting Sansa."

"And me?" Arya asked. "And Gendry?"

Jon sighed as he looked over at his younger sister. Jaime could see that Jon didn't want to entertain the thought of her on the battlefield, but from what he'd seen of the young Stark girl, no one would tell her shouldn't do something, even if that person was her brother and king. "You'll be inside the courtyard," he finally settled. "No one will defend it better than a Stark." He turned to Bronn. "Since you know how to shoot the Scorpion, I need you to show others. Make sure they work and how to aim and shoot them."

Bronn nodded. Jaime looked to Jon. "And me?"

"You'll be leading the troops on the ground," Lord Glover stood straighter and Jaime looked to him in frustration. But Jon spoke first. "Jaime has experience with battles, even against a dragon. We need him. I ask that you put the same faith in him that you have in me."

After a moment's hesitation, Lord Glover nodded. Jaime felt a bit better that the hard-nosed men of the North saw that it was better he was with them than against them. Jaime looked at the map of Winterfell and the North wall in particular. "We need the Scorpions on these towers. They'll have a full range of motion, able to swivel from side-to-side and up and down."

"We need Dragon glass spears. And we need to know of all the Valyrian steel at our disposal. Who has swords made of it? Valyrian steel can kill the Walkers."

"Brienne and I both have it," Jaime said softly, not telling Jon or the others that their swords were made from Ned Stark's blade, Ice. Jaime shared a look with the lady and she frowned sadly. She wasn't in much of a hurry to tell them either, it seemed. He wondered how Jon and Arya would react to knowing their father's sword had been melted down to make two new ones. Would they demand they turn them over? Would they use his sword to remove his head?

"Samwell Tarly has one as well."

"Samwell Tarly?" Jaime questioned. "Son of Randall Tarly?"

"Yes. He was my brother at the Night's Watch. He's been here for several weeks."

Jaime's eyes turned to Daenerys and her eyes met his, unwavering. "Does he know you roasted his father and brother alive?"

Everyone turned to Daenerys who appeared unmoved. "It's common knowledge they died on the field," she answered.

"They survived the battle. It's after you'd won they lost their lives."

Daenerys seemed unmoved by this fact. "They were given a choice: bend the knee or die."

"Not much of a choice, was it?"

"And what would your sister have done? Would she have let them choose?" Jaime thought for a moment and then shook his head. "I was true to my word. Two died to show one hundred not to be equally stupid. Those men are here amongst my fighting force."

"Again, that doesn't sound like much of a choice."

Daenerys settled into her stance and tilted her head at him as if he was a small child and she had to indulge him. "You're right. It's not. I didn't choose any of this. I didn't choose to be exiled from my home as a baby. I didn't choose to marry a Khal who raped me. I didn't choose for my son to die. I didn't choose to be the Mother of Dragons." She paused for a moment and her face grew stern. "I did choose to free the slave cities. I did choose to take the Unsullied and free them. I chose to kill the Khals and lead the Dothraki. I chose to bring my ships to Westeros. I chose not to fly to the Red Keep and kill all of you while you slept." She tilted her head. "I chose to side against Sansa Stark in wanting you dead even though you killed my father. I've had a lot of choices taken out of my hands. It's more than I can say for the Tarlys."

The tension was broken by a guard who didn't realize he was interrupting a very tense moment. "Your grace, Tormund Giantsbane and Beric Dondarrion have arrived and are with Lady Sansa."

Jon nodded. "My Lords, you are dismissed. Queen Daenerys, Arya, Ser Jaime, Ser Bronn, Ser Jorah, and Lady Brienne please stay." Jaime took the opportunity to look around the room and his eyes fell to the large white wolf sleeping in front of the hearth. He remembered seeing the pups for the first time, years ago. They could still be referred to as pups. But now, the great wolf was as large as his horse and seemed to be possessive of his master. Bronn moved over to Jaime while the room was quiet and whispered, "You couldn't fucking tell me you tried to murder the little boy before we got here?"

Jaime scowled at Bronn. "How was I supposed to know that now would be the time that this was brought up?"

He narrowed his eyes at Jaime. "Anything else you've done to this family they don't know about? Sansa Stark was trying to separate you from your head."

He shook his head. "Nothing they don't know about."

Bronn nodded. "Good. I fucking hate surprises," he said as the doors opened and two large men entered the room. The large wildling that was kissed by fire, eyed Brienne. The Wildling obviously had some sort of attraction to her and he was unsure how he felt about it.

"Lady Brienne, you look as...fearsome as always," he greeted, his voice rough and his accent distinctly Northorn. Bronn started laughing from beside him and everyone turned to look at the man that was nearly doubled over with it, however, Tormund never tore his eyes Brienne, giving her a cheeky smile when she looked back at him.

"I'm glad to see you both survived Eastwatch," Daenerys said, trying to draw attention away from Bronn.

Beric gave her a nod. "It was thanks to you we made it back there in the first place, your grace."

Jaime wasn't entirely sure what happened beyond the wall, but he knew that Beric Dondarrion was said to be the leader of the Brotherhood Without Banners. He'd just called Daenerys Targaryen 'your grace'. The day had been incredibly strange. An hour ago he wasn't sure if he would be food for a direwolf and now he was going to help lead the charge against the dead when they marched on Winterfell. Incredibly strange day.

"Better she came than the one that fucks her brother," Tormund said, to which Jon hid a smile behind a cough. Brienne looked over at Jaime and he felt the sting of it. This Wildling thought little of him, apparently. "Dragons are much more useful in situations like that."

"Tell us about the wall," Daenerys interjected, probably to keep the Wildling from saying anything else to unknowingly bring shame to the commander of their army.